(Lena)
The next morning Diane was already in the kitchen when I came downstairs.
She had coffee made and her phone in one hand and the particular expression she got when she'd been thinking about something since before either of us had spoken. I recognized that look. It usually meant a conversation I hadn't prepared for was already waiting.
I poured myself a cup and sat across from her.
"Brad was surprised to see me," she said without any preamble.
"When did you see him?"
"This morning," she said. "He came down while I was making coffee. He stopped in the doorway and just looked at me."
"Did he say anything?"
"Not a word," she replied. "Just looked and then turned around and went back upstairs."
I wrapped both hands around my mug.
"Good."
Diane watched me for a moment.
"He look
